


A is for Almonds and for Arsenic

by cosmic__boi



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Domestic Fluff, Ed drags oswald from work, Edward Nygma Has Mental Health Issues, Edward Nygma Has OCD, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff without Plot, Hurt/Comfort, Lab coats, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Oneshot, Painting, Post-Canon, Vacation, kind of, like ocd and autism and anxiety, post s5 episode 11, some time has passed but not quite ten years, they never went to prison, we're ignoring episode 12
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:40:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24012982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmic__boi/pseuds/cosmic__boi
Summary: Ed finally convinces Oswald to take a day off, and of all the things, they paint. Set after S5 Ep 11, let's pretend Ep 12 never happened, basically Ed and Oswald spending ten years in Blackgate/Arkham never happened. It hasn’t quite been ten years since No-Man's Land, but it has been a while.
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot & Barbara Kean, Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma
Comments: 11
Kudos: 60





	A is for Almonds and for Arsenic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [justabitwayward](https://archiveofourown.org/users/justabitwayward/gifts).



> So I might've messed up and forgot to fix some wording when I published this over a month ago... anyways now 'lil shit' is replaced with inconvenience... haha yes sorry about that...

Barbara Kean was positively giddy at the idea of her running the Iceberg Lounge. 

“It’s just for a day,” Oswald warned, holding up a finger. If any of the workers in the Lounge at the time had been around since the days of Fish, they would have inwardly smiled at the similar and familiar gesture of the now-passed woman. 

“Take it easy, Ozzie, I know,” her devious smirk lended doubt, but Oswald knew that she was just happy to be running a familiar scene again. A reminder of the old days. “So, where are you headin’ on your little _vacation_?”

“Oh, wouldn’t you love to know,” Oswald shook his head. “That would defeat the whole purpose, now wouldn’t it?”

“Vacation doesn’t mean falling off the face of the earth, Ozzie, it means _taking time off_ ,”

“Which I am!” When Oswald saw that Barbara was dubious, he sighed. “Look, I’m taking the day to just lay low, and take time away from work- _all_ of it.”

After finishing up making sure Barbara and Zsasz could take care of his empire for a day, Oswald exited the Lounge before it was even open. The cool morning air re-invigorated the man, and he paused to enjoy the sound of the city beginning to come alive for the day. Traffic had begun to trickle into the empty streets and businesses slowly opened. Gotham was rubbing her eyes and making for her first coffee cup of the day. 

Oswald had indeed always loved Gotham with all of his heart and soul. There were few things to which he had such devotion- his mother, his father, Fish Mooney…

And the fourth of which was sitting in the back of his limousine, which Oswald now re-entered. He motioned for the driver to pull away, and closed the parting between her and the two. Oswald then looked across the seat to his bespectacled partner. He couldn’t help but smile.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve had a day off from work in- well, frankly, _years_ ,” Oswald mused. 

“Well, it’s a good thing you finally decided to take one today,” Ed Nygma grinned over his green-tinted glasses. He was remarkably casual- both of them were. While both preferred the protective armor of their respective suits, Ed was now dressed in a plain white dress shirt and an old pair of black jeans, and Oswald in a dress shirt and a plain purple waistcoat. He had kept his lovely cane, of course. 

“Indeed,” Oswald replied. He closed his eyes, taking a slow and deep breath. Surprisingly enough, there weren’t many places he could do such a vulnerable thing in Gotham, but in the back of a car with tinted windows with Ed, he wasn’t even concerned. 

“C’mere,” Ed said after a moment, and Oswald opened his eyes and the two scooted closer, leaning their heads into each other, arms wrapping around their bodies. They stayed there, a protective circuit around each other, until they arrived at their destination. 

It was a small but pleasant apartment under Oswald’s name (one of his many around the city) with a gorgeous view. Ed slid out of the car with ease, then turned and helped Oswald out. 

“You look like a damn D*sney prince when you do that, you know,” Oswald chuckled, voice low enough for onlookers to not hear. There weren’t many, it being so early in the morning, but one could never be too careful. 

“Mm, would that make you the princess in need of saving?” Ed smirked cheekily, earning him an annoyed eye-roll. 

“Absolutely not,” Oswald grumbled as they entered the lobby of the building. The two stepped easily into the elevator, Oswald being recognizable enough for the clerk to allow them in without stopping. Once the polished brass doors slid closed and the two were once again alone, Oswald continued, “I am the _King_ of Gotham, I didn’t earn that title for nothing, you know,”

“I know,” Ed let out a little chuckle, although Oswald knew it wasn’t patronizing, but rather amused. The taller of the two wrapped one of his arms around Oswald and pulled him closer, nuzzling the top of his head with his nose. Oswald’s hair had plenty of product in it, but it still remained soft, its black tufts smelling like almonds* and honey and lavender. 

The soft ding came, and the doors slid open as Ed removed his arm. Although pretty much all of Gotham thought that the two were together, and _loved_ the idea of it, confirming their relationship would only mean danger for the two of them. Not that they couldn’t handle it, but why add even more stress? One day, they would share their secret with the world, but not quite yet. For now, they were content with their own love with each other.

The elevator opened up on a small corridor lined with little doors leading to other lives. Perhaps, had their lives not gone so topsy-turvy, so utterly, pardon the French, _insane_ , they might have lived in these apartments. Perhaps on different floors, never to meet, or maybe next-door neighbors, and still destined to have fallen in love. Without the crime, without the business, or the murders, without any of it all. 

“Ed?” The soft voice cut through Ed’s thoughts. “Where did you go this time?” Ed looked at Oswald, _his_ Oswald- the one whom he had so long ago rejected his blatant feelings for. They had torn each other apart, and yet, through all of the betrayal and hurt, Ed couldn’t stop loving Oswald. They had their fair share of issues, many of which they still were dealing with, but they were working on it. Together. He smiled.

“Just thinking how I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Ed quickly bent down and pecked a kiss on Oswald’s forehead. Oswald hurriedly looked around the corridor in fear, but Ed had already checked. Oswald looked back up at Ed, and just let out a small chuckle. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Oswald shook his head, but his wide smile horrifically betrayed his faux-annoyance. “But we’re here,” he gestured to the door they had reached. Inconsequential, practically identical to all the others. A dark grey, faded and chipped, with a brass number long-worn away. The apartment behind it revealed to not be much. It was mostly just an airy and open room, with a few doors leading to small sleeping chambers or bathrooms. There was a small kitchen in the corner, and a single large couch in front of an old TV. 

However, what caught Oswald’s eye was the painting supplies laid out on the table in the middle of the room. Ed _had_ said he wanted access to the apartment to set up a surprise…

“Painting?”

“Yeah!” Ed’s almost child-like grin had spread across his face. “It’s scientifically proven that painting helps calm the mind down and help refocus! So… I thought maybe… we could paint- together?”

“Ed, I- I don’t know how to paint, I never really had the chance-”

“No, but that’s fine! Doesn’t matter, it’s not like anyone is going to see these,”

“You’ll see it, _I’ll_ see it...”

“C’mon, it’ll be fun!”

Oswald sighed but couldn’t help but smile as Ed practically dragged him to the table. There were two chairs set at it. Ed pulled the chair out for Oswald to sit in, the seat with the large smock hanging over the side. 

“Your majesty,” Ed said in a haughty, horrible British accent that would have made Alfred instantaneously stab him. Oswald laughed, reaching over to grab Ed’s arm and kiss him on the cheek. They were in their own bubble, away from the world. The door was locked, and they were, for one of the few times in their insane lives, safe. Oswald took the smock and pulled it over his head. When he could see again, Ed had put on- his old lab coat. It was a little smaller, especially in the arms, and it had little splatters of paint already on it. 

“Your lab coat…” Oswald motioned towards it. 

“Yes, well, I may have _hated_ those buffoons at the GCPD, but I did actually enjoy my job, when I wasn’t being bothered by everyone else, or rather, ignored,” Ed traced a finger along the sleeve of his coat, reminiscing. He winced slightly, his mouth moving soundlessly. Oswald recognized the look, Ed’s head switching back and forth, metaphorically and physically. A sure sign he was arguing with his other self.

“...Ed?” the taller man’s eyes flew open, breathing heavily. “Ed? Breathe, look at me,” Oswald took Ed’s arms, forcing him to look right into Oswald’s eyes. “Breathe in, ok?”

Ed shakily inhaled, a sob in the back of his throat. 

“And out,” A sob fell out of Ed along with the air. “In.” Sniff. Sharp inhale. “And out again.” Shaky exhale. After several more breaths, Ed straightened up. He removed his glasses, taking another deep breath on his own, rubbing fiercely at his eyes. Only a few straggler tears had made it out, and those were now wiped away. Oswald had told Ed that it was fine for Ed to cry whenever he needed to, but he still hated to do so. 

“Sorry, sorry, I just- I just remembered Miss Kringle, and, I just started thinking, well, I thought I was in _love_ with her, and even though it’s so much _different_ now, it’s just- I can’t- I can’t-” Another wave of choked back sobs began to rise. “I can’t- help but wonder- what if- I can’t- I can’t stand the thought of- even the thought of doing it- _a g a i n-_ ” That broke Ed. He stumbled back into the seat, hands shaking violently. He wasn’t sure if his glasses had fallen and been stepped on, or if he had knocked over anything, he couldn't see properly, his head was in his hands, pressing, pressing, pressing-

“Ed, Eddie, Edward, listen to me,” Warm arms were surrounding him, around his own arms, easing the pressure from his own head. Hands were pressing gently but firmly onto his own chest, steadying him. He could feel his own heartbeat slowly matching another- slowing down from its rapid pace. “It’s ok, I’m here, I’m here,” A soft cheek felt against his head, a warm breath lightly and intermittently blowing through his hair. Horrible thoughts kept pressing into his head, threatening to ram down the doors and flood his brain, but soft speaking, a calm beat, kept breaking them apart, until slowly, slowly, Ed could see again, focusing on a paintbrush in front of him. He reached out and took it, calmly feeling the soft tips of the bristles as the world around him came into focus, including Oswald’s voice.

“It’s ok, Eddie, I’m right here, you are right here, we are safe, both of us, in this apartment. On 10th Street. Gotham. Ok? You’re going to show me how to paint properly, right? Uh, observations, uh, crap, uh, you aren’t wearing your frankly hideous green suit for once. Did I ever tell you it looks horrible? It truly is a monstrosity, yet somehow you always manage to look devastatingly _stunning_ in it.” 

That earned a snort from Ed, which in turn brought a smile to Oswald. Ed hated anything touching his face unless it was himself, especially right after an episode, so rather than a kiss, Oswald carefully placed a hand on Ed’s chest and held it there, a steadying feeling and a gesture of care. 

“Gahh, sorry, I just- I don’t know where that came from. Apologies, Oswald, uh,-”

“What have I told you? Don’t be sorry- it’s not your fault.” Oswald came around the chair and leaned on the table to face Ed. “Don’t apologize for such things, I just want to make sure you’re ok,”

“I am, thanks to you,” Ed smiled weakly, but genuinely. “Oh! Did I mess up my glasses-”

“No, it’s fine, I took them from you before you dropped them,” Oswald picked them up from a side table besides the couch and gave them to Ed. 

“Thank you,” He took them and put them back on. “For everything,”

“Of course,” Oswald waved his hand dismissively. “Ed, of course,”

“No, I mean, well, for… _dealing_ with me. You shouldn't have to worry on your one day off about some idiot with issues-”

“Ed, when I say, ‘of course,’ I mean, what you call ‘dealing with’ is just me taking care of the person I love, and that isn’t annoying, that isn’t a bother, not even a mild inconvenience. I’ll take care of you for as long as this life allows me to.”

Ed let out a hollow chuckle. “It’s rotten work,”

“Not for me, not if it’s you.”

To quote a truly rabid woman, ‘and the penny drops’. Ed didn’t know how it always happened. They had known each other for years, and had been together (even if in secret) for years as well. And yet, Oswald still managed to make him feel giddy in love. He was a paper boat in a little creek, and every time he thought it was beginning to dwindle down, a new rushing torrent of love came crashing around him. 

And somehow, Oswald felt just the same. Their honeymoon phase was long over, and yet he couldn’t help but love and adore his Riddler. 

“Well, uh, should we- uh, paint now? If you still want to?” Ed hopefully eyed Oswald. 

“I’d love to,” 

The two settled in the seats next to each other, and took in the supplies around him. 

“Well, I was saying, you know, earlier, how I sort of missed my lab coat. It’s nice, sterile, clean, and keeps me clean,” Ed began to ramble away, picking up various paints and brushes. “I used to use it as a sort of protection. Whenever I got really upset, I could just wrap it around me more, it helped,

“Not only that, but I started taking up painting, only a little, it helps me focus when I need to think, especially for schemes,” he continued on, talking about various medias and which were his favorites for different moods he was in, which textures were the best to him, and more. Oswald’s face filled with a calm and small smile, at ease with the talk from Ed, as he picked up a few bottles. He squirted a few onto a place and began to lay them out on his canvas. Oswald felt Ed wince beside him slightly, and realized he was mixing acrylic and watercolors. 

“Oh, crap, I messed up, oh gosh-”

“Hey, you're not on trial for these paintings,” Ed looked over and frowned. “Just- try not to press down too hard with the brush, so you don’t mess up the bristles.” 

“Oh, sorry,” Oswald lightened his hold, and tried to shape the mess into a coherent shape. Even with the severe lack of experience, the rhythmic movement of the brush and the calming talk of Ed beside him, arms touching on the table, it all felt lovely. The sun came up over the city, and a while later, Oswald looked at his canvas and realized it looked a little like a cat. He snorted and made a mental note to have it sent to Cat. 

And then he looked over at Ed’s painting. A large canvas, with so many colors, Oswald wasn’t sure if he was seeing new ones. The background was composed of various cooler tones, sterile and clean, like _ice_ , he realized. In the foreground, an umbrella, pulled out of so many tones and hues melding together like a hallucination. The canopy was outstretched, its tips looking like cautious wings ready for flight. The handle stretched downwards, and ending in an elegant curve, which was accented with various hues of green, matching the circular green-tinted ferrule at the top. Oswald realized it was an upside down question mark, barely noticeable.

Ed stopped talking, realizing that Oswald was staring at his canvas. Red crept into his pale cheeks, stretching around and down his neck. He looked down, only now realizing what he had been painting. 

“Eddie- that’s- _how long have you been painting_?” 

“Just for as long as you have been-”

“No, no, I mean- _how much practice have you had_?”

“I- I mean it is calming…” Ed trailed off. “I guess it _did_ end up being a lot of practice.”

Because, while the meaning was nonetheless incredibly touching, _Ed could_ **_paint_ **.

“Eddie,” Oswald repeated. “It’s _beautiful_ , I- that’s- “ he gently touched Ed’s arm, leaning into him. “It’s amazing.”

“It’s really not _that_ amazing…” Ed began to shrink into the familiarity of his coat, blushing even harder. 

“Well, _I_ think you’re wrong,” Oswald murmuring into Ed’s ear. 

“Oh,” Ed turned to mumble right back into Oswald’s ear. “I dare not go against the _King_ , now should I?” The two giggled quietly. 

“Can I…?”

“Yeah,”

Oswald moved and met Ed’s lips with his, hands still holding his paint supplies, Ed’s one free hand wrapping around his back to pull him closer. It wasn’t passionate, but firm, and comforting, and _close_. Nothing else mattered in the world, as long as Oswald could always be with Ed. He couldn’t even imagine how he had even gone about life as normal without having Ed. Even when they weren’t together, he rested in the knowledge that no matter how long they were apart, it wouldn't matter, he could always find his way back to his Eddie. 

________________

The next morning, Ed sauntered into the Iceberg Lounge, dressed once more in his shockingly green attire. He was there mostly to see if he could find a particular smuggler he was in need of recruiting for a job (and of course, with the slight hope of catching Ozzie in between their work). However, Ed stopped short upon entering the Lounge. His breath caught in his lungs, leaving him silently gaping at the opposite wall. In the center of one of the main walls, lined in a simple yet bold gilded frame, under a subtle but separate light, was _his_ painting. 

“Ah, Mr. Nygma!” the familiar clack of a cane sounded behind Ed, but he couldn’t turn. “I see you’ve noticed my most recent addition.” 

Out of the corner of his eye, Ed caught a cheeky smile.

“Ye-yes, uhm,” he cleared his throat, furiously attempting to regain his composure. Thank goodness he was known for madly grinning, because he couldn’t have stopped the smile that was now covering his face if his life depended on it. “It looks, uh, doesn’t it, uhm, look, well, a little out of place?”

“How dare you?” Oswald held a hand to his chest and mock-gasped. “I’ll have you know, I’ve had _several_ genuine compliments on the painting, with many requests for the artist’s contact as well.”

“Wh- well, what did you tell them?” 

“I told them that the artist was unfortunately exclusive,” Of all the things, Oswald gave Ed a wink. 

“Indeed, it appears they are,” Ed finally turned to Oswald. “Thank you, Ozzie,”

Oswald returned the smile with his own and a nod. “Of course.”

_Anything for you, my dear._

**Author's Note:**

> *HC that Oswald just puts almond essence in his hair so in case anyone bold enough who decides to sniff his hair, they can properly freak out about being poisoned, since arsenic smells distinctly like almonds. The Penguin gets known for being so dangerous he even puts poison in his hair. Only a few people know that it's not arsenic, and Ed is most certainly one of them.


End file.
